At 6:00 I slip out of the
house to walk to the bus station. t is dark, but the streets are well
illuminated. I pass the military guarding the presidential residence. We
exchange short polite greetings The streets are almost empty.

And just that empty is the bus
station. "Batse, Batse, Batse!" Batse is another name for
Massawa. The ticket seller tries to attract passengers by calling out loud
the destination of the bus.

I claim the front seat close
to the door, leaving my rucksack there. A friendly Eritrean advises me not
to choose this bus. "It is a private bus, and it takes hours before
it leaves. It is better to wait for the public bus."

I follow the advice and return
to the queue
waiting for the bus. From one of the boys selling all kinds of small food
items, I buy some grissini to share with my fellow passengers.

When we board, the friendly
driver offers me the front seat. "Please sit here, for a better
view." At 7:30 we are on our way to Massawa.

Up to Nefasit our trip goes
through the fog of the Asmara escarpments. From the front seat I have an excellent
view, and I can open the window to make pictures. The driver slows down to
help me catch the panorama's.

In Ghinda we have a 20 minute
tea break. Children are selling baskets, lemons, and peanuts. I do my best
to picture them, but they won't let me.

Giving all my attention to the
children, I forget the capricious landscape, and hit the Eritrean soil
very hard with my bottom. It's great fun for the children, and a lot of
pain for me. And sandy clothes. But my camera and bones fortunately
survived.

With the help of the military,
I make sure that my clothes are free of sand before we continue our bus
trip to Massawa. I continue my cat and mouse game with the children and my
camera.

Many months later I felt sorry
that I did not buy a some of their baskets. They would make a perfect
storage device for fruits in my kitchen. Now I only have their picture as
a souvenir.

After Ghinda we experience
more rain and the temperature are rises rapidly as we approach the Red Sea
coast.

At 11:00 we enter the Massawa
bus station. From there I follow the track of the railway to the Sigalet
Cinema. The Cinema is next to the Seghen International Hotel, a two year
old upper class hotel.

The Dahlak hotel is still
under renovation. The owner Giovanni Primo more that doubled the hotel's
capacity with neighboring extensions on Tualed Island, and the hotel
will not be open for guests until February 2010.

After checking in and drinking
some mineral water, I explore the surroundings of the hotel, walking into
the salt pans, where piles of unrefined salt are waiting for further
processing.

I have pasta for diner in the
Seghen International Hotel, where I spend the rest of the evening drinking mineral water and double arakies. I need the rest. Still
feel my bones after falling in Ghinda.